


An Atrocity Is Happening

by shaking_like_milk, you-cant-spell-subtext-without (ayreisha)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Frottage, Frotting, Hand Jobs, I will spell it Cass one time because it's plot relevant, M/M, Please Don't Hate Me, Wet Dream, after that it's just Cas as usual, french mistake fix-it, french mistake jensen, it's funny then kinda hot then sweet, no i lied it's two times but that's it i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:56:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29709894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaking_like_milk/pseuds/shaking_like_milk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayreisha/pseuds/you-cant-spell-subtext-without
Summary: Jensen, Dean Winchester doesn't want to fuck you...until he does.FM!Jensen travels to the Supernatural universe and meets Sam and Dean Winchester. Along the way he learns some things about Dean, and about himself, like what he really wants.Post French Mistake. French Mistake fix-it.It will be spelled "Cass" twice because plot reasons, but don't worry it will be "Cas" every other time. Shhh, the extra S can't hurt you.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jensen Ackles/Dean Winchester, Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins
Comments: 20
Kudos: 65





	1. ? Maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> [DISCLAIMER: For Very Important Legal Reasons, we are obligated to inform you, the reader, that the foregoing is entirely a literary work of fictitious nature and not intended to be perceived as a factual or accurate representation of any existing human being or televised character in relation to any of their acts, thoughts, or feelings regarding the events that are about to unfold, and the writers of the foregoing do not know or claim to know or intend for the foregoing work to present any representation, direct or inferred, about the actual acts, thoughts, or feelings of said human beings or televised characters in respect to the themes, events, dialogue, or sex acts portrayed herein. In short, if you recognize any real life person in any of these characters, no you don’t. Pleasedontsueusjackleslegalteam. ] 
> 
> Special thanks to tumblr user heller-jensen for letting us use the word “jussy” and to cactuscas for letting us use “Chief Justice J*ared P*adalecki

Jensen has no memory of the week Misha died. The week he apparently stayed at Jared's house, and the two of them beat the living shit out of an extra. The week that same extra stormed the set with a gun and shot Eric Kripke stone dead. All Jensen knows is that all of his credit cards are maxed out and Danneel isn’t talking to him. He’s staying in a hotel near the set. Dee suggested he stay at Jared’s, but Jensen has a feeling that whatever it was that caused him to black out for a week, Jared had something to do with it. 

Also Jensen hates Alpacas. Who _owns_ an alpaca? So here he is. 

Misha being gone has caused problems with production, and fans are in an uproar. They liked the little guy, and to be honest, he was starting to grow on Jensen as well. Not to mention that without Cass on the show “Destiel” will never happen, and the fans _really_ wanted Destiel to happen. _What even is Destiel_ ? Jensen thinks to himself. He googles it. _Humm, fanfiction_ . Well why not? It’s the middle of the night and he can’t sleep in the stiff, uncomfortable bed in the only hotel he can afford right now, due to the whole credit card situation. One of his cards isn’t even maxed out, the bank just put a hold on it because some hacker tried to buy something from a holy reliquary. _Whatever the hell that is._

 _No_ money, mo’ problems apparently. He chuckles to himself. _Gonna need to write that one down._ Anyway, nothing’s on TV except old reruns of Scooby Doo, and he sure as hell isn’t watching that again. He gets enough of that on the show playing Dean. He may as well read _something_. Fanfiction it is.

Cas. Why do they all spell it “Cas”? They seem pretty adamant about it, too. _Oh wow. Cas and Dean seem...close_ . He exits the story he’d been reading and tries another. This one’s long. But very well written. He gets about halfway through before Dean and Cas get _close_ again. There’s a link at the top of the page. _What’s tumblr?_

He clicks. 

Pictures of Dean, pictures of Sam, pictures of Cass, no, Cas. Oh look, they do little drawings too, that’s sweet. Huh, there’s one of those memes Misha texted him the other day, he feels a tinge of sadness begin to rise in his chest, before it's replaced with curiosity. _What’s a “bi Dean truther_ ”? He types “bi Dean” into the blue search bar at the top of the page. Lots of long posts pointing out various instances of Dean Winchester behaving in ways that suggest he’s only “ _performing_ masculinity.” People saying he’s “queer-coded” and “female-coded” and fuck if Jensen knows what any of that means, but looking at it all laid out like this, well... They make some very compelling arguments. _I can see that_ , he thinks to himself. _But what is a “jussy”? I still don’t get what “jussy jower” means._

After pausing to take something called a ‘u-quiz’ because he kind of _does_ want to know what kind of “girl (gn)” he is (a Dean-girl apparently), he spends way too much time chuckling at something called a Chief Justice J*red P*delecki. Oh he is saving those to throw at Jared later _\- actually, maybe not, Jared does not need any more ideas about Supernatural turning into a legal drama._ He’s already nagging the producers every chance he gets to bring up the fact that Sam went to law school. _Lawboy (derogatory)_ , as tumblr would say.

When he goes back into the main Supernatural tag he sees a post talking about how the lore in one of the episodes doesn’t make sense. Seems like the actual legend it’s based on says something different than what was in the show. _Well it is just a show_. But that gets him thinking. 

He knows most of the monsters and magic in the show are, at least in part, based on the “real deal.” And didn’t they do an episode last season where Dean got sent to an alternate universe? Yeah, well, sort of, Dean got sent into the future. And the episode they were filming the week Jensen blacked out was about Dean and Sam traveling to the “real world.” In France, or something. He thinks it was in France, anyway. He doesn’t remember much other than getting the script for that one.

 _Might be kind of cool to go to another universe._ He pokes around the internet for a while, and eventually finds a website that seems to have credible information about the supernatural. There’s an entire catalogue - everything from monsters to magic to alternate universes. He clicks on that last one, and there’s a spell that will supposedly send you to any universe you want. For some reason the ingredients ring a bell. 

_Wait_. “Bone of a lesser saint?” Didn’t the bank put that hold on his credit card for some transaction involving a holy reliquary? He thumbs over to his mobile banking app. Yup. This can’t be a coincidence. Hold on _-_

 _What - what if Dean Winchester really does exist somewhere, and he took my place for that one weird week that I can’t remember. That would be fucking weird._ He thinks about it for another minute. _But also pretty neat. Wonder if Dean would remember what happened?_ No, that’s ridiculous. Magic’s not _real._ But his mind continues to spiral.

 _I wonder if Dean and I would be friends? I mean he’d like me, right?_ He catches his own reflection on the computer screen briefly, eerily superimposed on a picture of Dean’s face. _Yeah, he’d totally like me. I mean, I am a likeable guy._

He keeps reading the spell, and honestly? He kind of wants to try it. Just the slightly minor issue of his cash flow problem that’s stopping him. He scrolls down the site a bit more. There’s another spell, this one with much simpler ingredients. Ok, ok, he can get these. 

_I feel like Dean Winchester_ , he thinks to himself, and he feels the corners of his mouth turn up at that. 

Even though he's sure the spell won't actually work, he feels himself committing to trying it out. Why not? But it's late, and he doesn't have everything he'll need, so he settles for trying to sleep now, and gathering spell ingredients later. _Yup, just like Dean Winchester._ That thought lulls him into sleep.

His dreams are...interesting. He’s sitting in the Impala, just like he does on the set, but he’s in the passenger seat. _Wait, who’s driving? I do my own stunts here!_ He turns his head. 

Dean winks at him. “Hiya, handsome”

Jensen's breath freezes in his chest. There's a familiar warmth flooding to his crotch.

"What's going on?" He shifts uncomfortably. It's dark in the car, and looking out the window behind Dean, he can see stars in the sky.

Dean is drumming his fingers against the Impala’s steering wheel to the tune of the radio. Jensen's gaze lingers on Dean's hands. Strong but smooth. _His hands_. And suddenly he’s thinking about those hands on his body, not Jensen’s hands, but Dean’s. He’s thinking about what it might feel like to have them roam over his body, slipping underneath his shirt, moving lower until they find the button on his jeans…until those hands slip under the waistband of his boxers, reaching, grasping. . .

And then the hands _are_ Dean’s, and they’re both somehow in the back seat, two sets of green eyes and an entire universe of freckles, and - and -

_Oh._

He wakes up to wet sheets, loose limbs, and that slow, fuzzy feeling that only comes after a particular kind of dream.

Jensen untangles himself from the damp fabric and kicks the sheet to the floor before checking his phone. It's full of messages and tweets from people still wondering what the hell was up with him last week. _Well, I’ve got no answers for any of you,_ he thinks, quickly logging out of twitter and closing his unanswered texts. 

_But hmm,_ he pauses. Based on last night’s research, there may be a way to figure out what happened. He yanks his laptop from the nightstand and opens it, this time searching for occult shops in the area. He finds one, looks up the directions, and he's on his way. 

Jensen feels like a complete idiot the entire time he's in the shop, the strange names of the spell ingredients oddly foreign on a tongue so used to exorcising fake demons for a living. He's still feeling a little embarrassed by his own behavior on the drive back to his hotel. He dumps the stuff he got from the shop on his bed and opens his computer, looking up the spell again to double check he’s got everything right. Jensen’s not sure if he wants this half-assed idea to work or not, but something inside nags at him to try it.

Not just for himself. For Dean. The memory of last night’s dream rises, unbidden.

Still feeling foolish, he starts setting everything up on the table, just like he’s done time and time again on the show. He tries to convince himself that it’s fine. He’s all alone in this room, and no one will know what an ass he’s making of himself. Because he _is_ making an ass out of himself. Because this definitely _won't_ work. He’s like a child, playing pretend with really fucking weird toys. Just...method acting. _Yeah, that’s it._

He adds the final ingredient to the bowl and lights a match, all that’s left is to drop it in. _Here goes nothing_ , he thinks to himself as he tosses the match into the bowl with a flourish, like he’s on camera.

CRACK! A flash of light. He’s spinning and falling. For a moment everything goes black. And then-

“What the hell?!” _I know that voice_ , Jensen thinks.

He opens his eyes, but he can’t see much aside from the gun in his face; there’s a rough hand gripping his collar firmly. He’s sitting, crumpled on the floor with his back against a wall. He blinks as his pupils adjust to the dimness of his surroundings.

“Who the fuck are you?!” He hears his own voice shout, but he’s not the one who said it.

Tilting his head slightly, he sees his own green eyes blazing down angrily at him. 

“Dean?” He asks, disbelief colouring every letter.

Dean tightens his grip on Jensen. “Yeah, I am. Who are you? _What_ are you?”

“I’m...uh... My name is Jensen Ackles.” _How the hell am I going to explain this?_

Jared steps forward - no, not Jared, _Sam_. Sam Winchester. “Wait, like… the actor Jensen Ackles?”

Dean, still keeping his grip on Jensen, turns to face his brother. “Actor? What are you talking about?”

“Remember, Dean,” Sam says, brows working as he pieces it together, “Last week, Balthazar sent us to that other world? Our lives were a TV show. The guy who played you was called Jensen Ackles.”

“Oh yeah,” a look of dawning comprehension comes over Dean’s face, “and you were Jared...Padaleski.”

“Padalecki.” Jensen and Sam say in unison.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Dean brushes them off, annoyed. 

“What are you doing _here_?” he demands, looking back at Jensen and tightening his grip on him.

There’s no good answer for that. “Well I um...” _Lie,_ he thinks to himself, he tries to straighten up a bit despite Dean still pinning him to the wall. _I can lie, I’m an actor, I lie for a living_. “Well I was… um, reading the script, you know the part with the, um, spell - and… next thing I knew, I was here.”

There’s silence for a moment while the brothers seem to deliberate. The way the two are looking at each other Jensen thinks that the script notes here would indicate there’s some nonverbal communication going on between them. _Sam and Dean exchange glances, neither quite believing what this stranger is spinning._

“You were reading the script?” Sam asks, his forehead wrinkling in a very similar way to Jared’s. Maybe a bit more earnestly, since this Sam is just, well, being Sam. “Wait, how are you even doing the show anymore? I thought the guy who played Cas died?”

Jensen rubs the back of his neck, uncomfortable. “ _Mish_ , yeah. He did. But we’re working around that. Some of the higher ups didn’t really want Castiel on the show anymore anyway, so..” Jensen trails off when he sees the look on Dean’s face.

“What do you mean they ‘didn’t want Cas on the show’??” Dean’s face is a mask of pure disgust. “Cas is important! Cas _has_ to be on the show!” 

Jensen is taken aback slightly at the reaction. _Wow Dean, going a little hard there, don’t you think?_

Sam reaches his hands out, patting the air towards Dean in a calming gesture, “Dean, okay, okay, relax, it’s just a TV show. Focus.”

Dean takes his hand off of Jensen and, straightening up, tucks his gun back behind him in the waistband of his jeans, “Right, okay." He goes quiet.

 _Dean - still processing_ , _still pissed_. Jensen thinks in script notes again.

"So," Sam says, taking the lead. "You said you were reading the script, I assume there was a spell in it?”

Jensen nods.

Sam is frowning. “Okay, but in the version we read, it wasn't just an incantation, it was a full on spell. With ingredients." He looks a little guilty at that. 

_Got ya. You a-holes did use my credit cards._

"Uh.. yeah. I guess they had to change some stuff since, ya know... Castiel isn't in it anymore." Jensen is fibbing on the fly, the words sliding out of his mouth as he thinks of them. 

“Sam, how do we know this guy even is who he says he is?” Dean blurts out. 

_Dean, obviously still upset._ Although Jensen can’t be sure if it’s about Cas not being on the show anymore, or the fact that his doppleganger just popped in out of thin air. But those are choices he usually makes for Dean himself, script notes be damned. 

Dean runs his hands through his hair, which Jensen suddenly finds very distracting. 

“We’ve gotta check him.” 

Sam must have spotted Jensen’s nervous expression, because he immediately assures him it’ll be ok.

“Like on the show,” he explains., “Holy water, silver, that kind of stuff.”

Jensen doesn’t mind the holy water so much - getting splashed in the face with water is much more pleasant than getting doused with the lube that serves as holy water on set - but he winces when Dean cuts him with the silver blade. _Well, that was probably a bit deeper than was entirely necessary._ He scowls, and Dean mirrors it right back at him.

“Okay, so he’s not a monster,” Dean concedes to Sam, still speaking as if Jensen isn’t even there. “Still doesn’t mean he’s telling the truth. Besides, there wasn’t any magic in that world - remember? So how could he have gotten here?”

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother’s dramatics, but seems to consider his words, “Look Dean, I hear what you’re saying, but why would he lie? What would be the point?”

Dean is growing more and more exasperated. “Listen, it’s not like we know this guy. Maybe he’s got something to gain pretending to be Jensen - Ankles, or whatever.”

“It’s um, Ack-” Jensen starts to say weakly, as Dean pulls Sam to the other side of the room, Jensen can just barely hear what they’re saying from where he remains, still sitting on the floor, holding a rag to his bleeding arm. _This better not leave a scar. My body is what brings home the bacon, after all._

“...I don’t know but the guy’s wearing my face, and I don’t like it!” _Dean, gruffly,_ Jensen thinks. That’s what it would say in the script. Dean’s volume is low, but his tone is harsh. 

Jensen can’t blame him for being upset, if he was in Dean’s position he’d probably feel the same. 

_Well, maybe not the exact same._ He admits to himself, once again remembering last night’s dream.

“Well, the sooner we figure this out and get him back to where he came from the better. We can get back to hunting down Eve, and you won't have to worry about him.” Sam sounds more and more exasperated by Dean’s annoyance. 

The brothers briefly interrogate Jensen about what exactly the script said and the details of the spell. Jensen just says that it was in Latin, so he doesn’t know. It’s all he can say really, since the whole script thing is a complete fabrication, and there’s no way Jensen’s going to tell them the truth. They seem to believe him though, and Jensen is relieved, he knows what happens to people who lie to the Winchesters. He’s acted it out himself. 

Sam calls Bobby, _Bobby’s real too_. Sam says that Bobby will look into it, but he might need some help. They’re not too far from Sioux Falls, so Sam says he’ll go over to help sort through the lore. _Lore_. Jensen is starting to feel a little dizzy.

Dean’s not happy about being left alone with Jensen, but Jensen is stubbornly refusing to go to Bobby’s. If the real Supernatural is anything like the TV show, Bobby's house is dirty, and Jensen’s not a fan of dirty. Besides, he doesn’t need any reminders of that a-hole Bob Singer.

“Look,” Sam tells Dean, “You can either stay here with him, or you can go to Bobby’s and do research. As in read a _ton_ of spell books.” Dean looks pained while contemplating his options, but eventually agrees to stay with Jensen.

“No fighting.” Sam tells Dean as he leaves for Bobby's house. _Dean shoots Jensen a look that says otherwise._ Jensen frowns _Did he just put himself in his own script notes?_

_Okay, then, we’re really in it now._


	2. Dinner and a Movie

Sam leaves, and Dean and Jensen are alone. This is something that shouldn’t make Jensen feel nervous, but it does. 

“So uh...what do we do now?” Jensen tries for a relaxed and mildly curious tone, but ends up sounding painfully awkward. _Damn okay - it’s harder to act when you’re talking to a Winchester in real life. At least when it’s Dean Winchester._

Dean glares at him. “Nothing, just sit there quietly.” He scans Jensen up and down a moment before adding, “Ryan Seacrest called, by the way. He wants his crappy designer shirt back.”

 _This shirt isn’t crappy_ , Jensen frowns, picking at his sleeve self-consciously. _Though maybe a flannel would have been a better wardrobe choice for this trip_.

Jensen’s not sure Dean would be too impressed by his $219 Hiroshi-Kato flannel though,either. 

They sit in silence for quite some time, Jensen’s not sure how long exactly. Dean’s sitting on one of the beds reading some old book. 

_Must have something to do with that Eve person Sam mentioned_. Jensen pretends to look at his phone, but it’s not working - must be something to do with being in a different universe. He’s getting a little antsy. He contemplates saying something to Dean, engaging him in some sort of conversation. But Dean seems very focused.

 _Dean is entirely consumed by the book in his lap._ The script notes arise in Jensen’s mind unbidden as he gazes at him.

 _Or maybe he’s just pretending to be so he doesn’t have to make conversation._ Jensen wonders which acting choice he’d go with.

Dean snaps the book shut suddenly and rubs his hands over his face with a deep sigh. Jensen’s own palms twitch at the familiar gesture. 

Dean looks over at Jensen, “I’m hungry, you hungry?” He spits the words out quickly, like he resents having to speak to the man on the other side of the room wearing his face.

“Uh, yeah, actually.” Jensen responds. He hadn’t even considered the need for food until Dean mentioned it, but all of a sudden his stomach growls. 

Dean gets up from the bed and reaches for his jacket. He’s got it on and is halfway to the door before he turns to look at Jensen, who had started standing up to follow him. 

Dean frowns. “Uh... you’re gonna have to stay here.” 

Jensen feels his face fall. “What? Wh-...why can’t I come with you?” 

For the first time Dean looks at him with the tiniest bit of softness. “Look man, no offense, but I don’t really wanna walk around town with my clone, okay? That might - I don’t know - give the locals the creeps.” The annoyance in his tone has been slightly downgraded to a tinge of inconvenience.

“So I’m just supposed to just wait here, then?” Jensen asks, a last ditch effort to come along, the script notes rising to the forefront of his imagination. He knows Dean won’t trust him alone. Especially with all of his stuff. _Guns, lore books, etc._

Dean looks around the room for a moment until finally his eyes fix on something. “I’ve got an idea.” He says, his mouth turning up in a mischievous smile.

A few minutes later Jensen is sitting on the floor again, this time handcuffed to the radiator. _This really isn’t necessary_ , he thinks, tugging against the restraints, just a bit too snug against his wrists. 

Jensen is suddenly sent back to the last time Dean tied up a version of himself. An episode in season four he thinks, or no, no wait, it was definitely five. Zachariah wanted to show Dean a world where he didn’t say yes to Michael, and that future version of Dean tied him up. _Endverse_ , Jensen remembers from the Tumblr tags. Dean eventually gained Endverse!Dean’s trust by sharing personal information, something only Dean would know. Rhonda Hurley. Somehow, Jensen doubts that sharing his own deep dark secrets will win him any favor with Dean. 

Jensen's mind wanders, _Rhonda Hurley...pink panties_. 

Before his mind can go too far down that road, the door opens. Dean’s back with dinner. He drops it on the table and walks over to Jensen.

“Good boy, you’re still here,” he says as he unlocks the handcuffs.

Jensen tries to ignore the feeling that runs through his body at the sound of those words, and at the feel of Dean’s hands on his wrists. _Okay, actor - act._ He attempts to sound annoyed instead, “Yeah, where else would I be? You cuffed me to a radiator.”

“Well if it were me,” Dean says, taking a seat at the table and opening the take out food bag, “I would’ve been out of those things in no time.”

“Yeah well...I’m not you.” Jensen says rubbing the soreness in his wrists away, _Surely Dean didn’t have to fasten the cuffs quite so tight_. He gets up and joins Dean at the table to see what Dean’s brought for them to eat.

“Burgers?” Jensen is absolutely sure his disinterest, bordering on disgust, is written all over his face, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice. _Dean, you’re more even obtuse than I workshopped you to be..._

“Yeah,” Dean says, eyes pinned to his burger almost lustfully as he unwraps it, “I’ve been to this place a few times before, they’re pretty good.” He’s just about to take a bite when he notices Jensen's face. “What?” 

“I don’t eat red meat.” Dean’s expression changes almost immediately, it’s clearly more than just disapproval. _Dean is offended_.

Dean, incredulous, actually sets his burger down, “You _what_?”

Jensen starts to repeat himself but Dean waves him off, “Look, pal,” he begins, and whatever tiny spark of hope Jensen had of Dean warming to him flickers out in that instant. “Just… eat it okay? One cheeseburger ain’t gonna kill ya.”

As much as he would rather have a salad, or anything else even _remotely_ healthy, Jensen picks up the burger Dean pushes across the table to him. He can tell Dean's patience is already wearing thin, and Jensen’s played Dean on the show long enough to know that Dean’s almost at his limit. He discreetly shoves the patty further back so he gets a mouthful of just bun and cheese. Even still, it takes everything he has not to gag at the lingering taste of meat.

“So,” Dean says, not seeming to notice Jensen’s extreme efforts to keep from hurling, “do you, you know... remember anything from that week Sam and I were in your world? You and uh...” Dean snaps his fingers, indicating that he doesn’t remember and wants Jensen to fill in.

“Jared.” Jensen informs him.

“Right, Jared. You guys weren’t around. So did you go somewhere else, or was it just a blank?” 

Jensen’s not sure why Dean cares. _He could just be trying to be polite_ , he thinks, but then considers that Dean could also be fishing for more information, more research for the case. _Oh, I’m the MOTW,_ Jensen realizes with a frown. Either way it doesn’t really matter; that week is a complete blank, and Jensen tells Dean as much.

“Well good for you that you weren't sent here at least. Your world was weird, _really weird_ , but it was kind of a nice break from all this crap.” Dean pauses for a moment before letting out a small chuckle. “Especially for Sammy.”

“What do you mean?” Based on what Jensen knows from the show, Sam’s doing alright now, what with having gotten his soul back and all.

“Oh.” Dean makes a face Jensen knows well, the ‘Dean Winchester’s gotten caught saying something he wasn’t supposed to’ face. “Well, I uh… I don’t know for _sure_ , but I’m.. I’m pretty sure that Sam and Jared’s wife...ya know.”

It takes Jensen a moment, and then, “Oh. _Oh_. Wait, wait. You didn’t ..with Danneel... _Right_?”

Jensen is briefly overcome by panic before Dean asks, “What’s a Danneel?” and once Jensen explains, Dean assures him that, no, he didn’t.

“God, seriously what is _up_ with all of the names in your world, man?! But yeah - I never even saw her, hand to God.” Dean raises his hand up in the air for a moment as if to emphasize his point. 

Jensen lets out a breath. “Good.”

“How’s she doing anyway?” Dean asks. “You get in any trouble for not being around for a few days?”

Jensen leans back in his chair with a sigh. “Yeah, she’s not happy, she’s not talking to me.” he confides. 

“Ah well, she’ll get over it. Just lay on the charm and say you’re sorry. Buy her flowers or something.” Dean says it with so much confidence that Jensen thinks for a moment that he might take the advice. But then he remembers Dean’s history with women, and the fact that Dean has _no idea_ what he’s talking about.

He decides to change the subject, “How’s Cast - Cas? Is he like... Fighting Angel wars or whatever here too?” Jensen knows that on the show Cas is deeply embroiled in a war against Raphael, but he’s not sure if the same goes for this Cas.

Dean shifts in his seat, “Yeah, he uh... He is. Don’t know much about it though, other than that sending me and Sam to your world was a move.” Jensen looks at Dean, noting the slight change in tone, and - wow. There’s so much on Dean’s face. Hurt, betrayal...longing maybe. For Cas? He thinks back to the tumblr posters. And the fanfic.

Dean clears his throat uncomfortably. “You guys film that show in Canada right?” _This is a rather abrupt change of subject_ , Jensen thinks.

“Yeah, why?”

“Do you like baseball?” Dean asks. Jensen's confusion must show on his face. There was never any mention on the show about Dean being interested in baseball. Dean waves the question away quickly, almost embarrassed. _Maybe I’ll look around on tumblr for an explanation of that one_ , Jensen decides.

They finish their dinner in silence, and then Dean rubs his eyes with the backs of his hands. 

"Hey,” he says, in the lightest tone he’s used yet, “ever seen Lost Boys?"

Jensen smiles back at Dean. “Uh, yeah, it’s pretty good.” The movie isn’t one of Jensen's favorites, but he knows how much Dean loves it.

“Pretty good? Man, that movie kicks ass!” Dean says excitedly, grabbing the remote, “Come on!”

They start out on separate beds, but then with a thrilled "Oh this is the best part!" Dean moves over to Jensen's bed, sitting down next to him while pointing a finger at the TV. 

Dean’s fervor is infectious, and Jensen finds himself scooting a little closer to him, magnetized into his orbit. Dean passes him a tumbler of whiskey. _Well, why not?_

They end up shoulder to shoulder, leaning back against the headboard. Jensen can’t help but notice their proximity. Arms touching slightly, legs almost as close. Dean _smells good_. Like leather, soap, whiskey, and something else, sage maybe? Could be, according to that website Jensen looked at sage is used in lots of spells, and Dean does use magic from time to time.

Jensen doesn’t realize that all of his attention’s been focused on Dean and not on the film until Dean exclaims, “Oh man, watch this scene!” Dean smiles at him, tiny lines forming around his eyes, his expression open for the first time since they met. _It’s strange_ , Jensen thinks, how they share a face and yet, Dean’s looks so different from his own. Dean’s personality shapes his features into something completely dissimilar from what Jensen is used to seeing in the mirror. _He’s beautiful_. 

That’s a weird thing to think about someone who is, in a way, an extension of yourself, but Jensen can’t help it. He turns back to the tv in an attempt to refocus his attention. He’s immediately distracted again by the rise and fall of Dean’s shoulder against his own as Dean breathes. The slight shake that moves through Dean and into the bed as he laughs.

“You know,” Jensen figures if he’s gonna broach the subject, now’s as good a time as any, “I used to have the biggest crush on David when I first saw this movie.”

Dean turns to look at him, clearly caught off guard by Jensen's sudden admission, “Wh - what?” He asks. Dean looks surprised, confused, and maybe a little keen. “But uh.. Don’t you have a wife? I mean you’re not…”

“I’m… open to things.” Jensen tells him. _This is just the reaction I should have expected_ , he thinks to himself. But he decides to push just a little bit harder, “I mean… aren’t you?” 

The question lingers for just a beat too long. _I knew it_. _Point for the Bi!Dean truthers of tumblr._

“Well,” Dean chokes out awkwardly. His mouth works like he’s trying to get more words out of it, but he can’t.

Finally Dean manages to say, an extremely forced casualness in his tone, “I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought about it.” _That’s the first time he’s admitted that_. Jensen fills in the acting directions.

Since their shoulders are already touching, if only barely, Jensen chooses to lean into the contact, increasing the pressure to the entire length of their arms. 

The briefest look of contemplation crosses Dean's features before he shifts his leg over to lay flush against Jensen's. _Is Dean...trembling?_

The two sit frozen for a moment, twin eyes locked, neither entirely sure what to do next. _Is this weird?_ Jensen asks himself. _Yes. But do I care?_

Jensen leans his face toward Dean's just a fraction, and he closes his eyes when he sees Dean mirror him. 

It isn't until Jensen feels Dean's lips on his that he realizes just how much he's wanted this. 

Jensen raises his hand to curl his fingers around Dean's jaw and feels Dean relax into the touch. His hand tangles Jensen's shirt sleeve in response, pulling him closer. 

Jensen takes note of the sudden tightness of his jeans as they pull against his groin, and wonders why his body is reacting so quickly to so little. Dean’s barely touching him, but his dick is already aching. 

Somehow, Jensen’s not sure exactly, he finds himself with one leg on either side of Dean’s, straddling him, mouth still flush against Dean’s. He sucks Dean’s bottom lip in firmly, dragging the edges of his teeth against it as Dean’s hands grip Jensen’s thighs, urging him closer until he feels the warmth radiating from Dean’s body wash over him like a wave. 

_Okay, okay. This is fine. He is fine._ Jensen, slowly, languidly grinds his crotch into Dean’s like he’s just testing this out, like it’s an experiment - and _oh god,_ he can feel the hard outline of Dean’s dick through his jeans. 

Dean makes a low sound in his throat, almost a growl, his hands grabbing at Jensen’s shirt, fingers scattered, trying to tug the fabric upwards, his movements increasingly desperate. Jensen feels like he’s going to lose it all right now, still in his jeans and boxers, just from the feel of Dean’s hands dragging across the tight cotton, the mere touch of Dean’s fingertips through his shirt sending heat surging through Jensen’s entire body.

Jensen takes his mouth off Dean’s for a moment to pull his shirt over his head with one arm, and when he does Dean freezes, his eyes moving over Jensen’s lightly toned arms and then drifting over to his torso, fixating on Jensen’s chest, on the spot where Dean's tattoo would be. Dean stays motionless for only a moment before slowly running his hand up from its position on Jensen's leg, over Jensen’s thigh, higher and higher past the waist of Jensen’s jeans, grazing it over his stomach. And now Dean is touching his skin, and Jensen is going to burst. 

Dean’s hands trail over Jensen’s exposed skin, and Jensen feels every fingertip. Dean’s hands finally reach the back of Jensen’s neck to pull Jensen's lips back to his own, kissing him deeply.

Jensen smiles into Dean's mouth as he moves to undo Dean’s belt buckle, the clasp clicking in the most satisfying way. Dean shivers as Jensen runs one finger under the waistband of his briefs, his breath hitching deliciously in response.

Forcing his hands to move slowly, Jensen unzips and opens Dean’s jeans, and in doing so he finds the glorious confirmation of what he already suspected, that Dean is enjoying this just as much as he is. Jensen runs his hand lightly over the bulge in Dean's briefs, and Dean instantly grips Jensen tighter, digging his fingers into Jensen's arm and neck. 

Jensen chances a look at Dean’s face and - _oh._ Dean’s expression is begging for more, his eyes dark and full of want. Jensen is practically swooning now, dizzy and pleased with himself. He drags his mouth from Dean’s lips to his neck, but is careful not to do anything that would leave a mark. If he's sure of anything, it's that Dean wouldn't be comfortable with carrying around any evidence of this encounter.

Dean’s breath blows hot as he exhales right above the sensitive curve of Jensen’s ear, and he feels the quick, heavy rise and fall of Dean’s chest against his own. Dean’s flannel shirt is rough on Jensen’s skin, creating more friction, more heat. He slips his hand fully under the waistband of Dean’s briefs and begins stroking him, hand circling his dick under the fabric, tugging Dean loose and slow. 

A tiny noise of pleasure escapes Dean’s lips and Jensen’s sure that the hazy feeling in his head isn’t only due to the whiskey anymore. 

Jensen feels Dean’s hands slide between their bodies to undo Jensen’s pants, tugging them down his hips slightly, exposing his pulsing erection.

As soon as Dean’s fingers wrap around him, Jensen feels as if he’s been transported to yet another new world. The pressure of Dean’s palm moving up and down the length of him makes Jensen ecstatic, as if he’s flying through space. All that exists now is the feel of Dean’s hands on him, the needy ache of his cock, the dizzying rush of blood pounding in his ears, and the sounds of their rasping breaths as they stroke each other, their movements growing faster, more urgent with each passing second **.**

“Dean-” Jensen whispers, cheeks flushing at the name in his mouth. _Fuck it._ “More.”

And suddenly Jensen realizes what he really wants right now isn’t Dean’s hand on his dick.

What he wants is Dean’s dick in his mouth. Right fucking now.

Jensen untangles himself semi-reluctantly from Dean’s grip. Dean seems confused, his lips part as if to ask a question, Jensen gently puts a finger over Dean’s mouth, _shh_.

In a move that surprises them both, Dean sucks Jensen’s fingertip over his lips and into his mouth, caressing the pad of it firmly with his tongue. Jensen grunts, struggling to focus, _okay, okay, let’s go._

Dean whines as Jensen pulls his finger out of Dean’s mouth. Leaning down, Jensen swirls his tongue over Dean’s Adam’s apple, eliciting a grunt from Dean that sends a buzzing vibration through Jensen’s entire body.

Refusing to let himself become more distracted, Jensen steadily slides himself further down the bed, his body still pressed against Dean’s. He fumbles with Dean's shirt, pushing it out of the way to expose the flesh of Dean’s chest and abdomen, desperate to see and feel more skin, more of Dean. It seems that Dean himself is not disagreeable, as he pulls his flannel and t-shirt off in one frantic movement. Jensen rakes his eyes up and down Dean’s body, noticing that Dean is slightly more muscular where Jensen is lean, and that while both men share the same smattering of tiny freckles, on Dean’s skin they are joined by faint pink scars.

Jensen follows the freckles down, like a path, and finds himself with his face between Dean’s thighs. When Jensen looks up at Dean, he sees that Dean’s eyes are glazed over, pupils blown with lust, head tilted back slightly as the column of his neck heaves raggedly, mouth still hanging open a bit. Dean’s losing control.

 _Good._

Dean realizes Jensen’s stopped moving and looks down at him.

“Keep going.” Dean breathes out, the words barely a whisper, as if he’s afraid someone will hear him. “Pl-plea-” The rest of the word is swallowed by a shuddering breath.

Jensen does as he’s told, pulling Dean’s jeans and boxers off as quickly as he can, before tossing them on the floor and returning to his position between Dean’s legs. Jensen's dick twitches into the blanket, thrusting of its own accord, the scratchy polyester a poor substitute for the warmth of Dean’s skin, but it’ll do for now while Jensen focuses on this. 

Dean is lying on the bed, chest heaving, legs trembling, eyes pinned to Jensen as he leans forward, hovering over Dean’s pelvis.

He palms each of Dean’s thighs, spreading them further apart. Dean tenses at the touch, then relaxes into it.

Jensen lowers his body over Dean, draws the scruff of his cheek down Dean’s stomach, and tongues the strip of skin above his dick. He continues further down, kissing and sucking the skin at the base of Dean’s cock, before taking Dean firmly in his hand, slicking his dick with the spit left there by his messy, open kisses. Jensen gently strokes him, all the way up, all the way back down. Dean moans and Jensen looks up in time to see Dean's head flop back against the headboard of the bed, Dean’s jaw clenching and unclenching as his body starts to jerk, pumping into Jensen’s hand. 

Slowly Jensen runs his tongue up the underside of Dean’s cock, enjoying the taste of the smooth skin there. Dean shudders in response. Jensen pauses for just a second, enjoying Dean’s quick, needy intake of breath before wrapping his lips around the tip of his dick and sliding it quickly into the warm chasm of his mouth. Dean’s fingers tangle loosely in Jensens hair, as he bobs his head up and down, sucking Dean harder now, more desperately.

Dean starts to move again, thrusting up into Jensen’s mouth and Jensen relaxes his throat, taking him deeper, wanting to feel the tip of Dean’s dick hitting the back of his throat. Somewhere, in the thick, heady fog of his mind, Jensen realizes something. 

_Dean and I have the same body, so, hmmm wonder if the things I like Dean likes too_? 

_Why not test the theory?_ Jensen thinks, reaching a hand down to press right at the space behind Dean’s balls. Starting with a light touch, a gentle prod of the fingers, and then pressing more firmly, when Dean lets out a pleased gasp and thrusts harder into Jensens mouth, fucking him deeper.

_Yes._

Jensen’s suddenly very aware of his own throbbing erection, growing painful now, and the small amount of friction he’s getting from rubbing himself on the bed isn’t giving him the relief he suddenly very much needs. He places his palms back on Dean’s thighs, stilling him as he pops his mouth off, and getting a very unhappy noise from Dean in response.

Jensen wipes the back of his hand across his flushed mouth, noticing how Dean’s eyes follow the movement. Enjoying the attention, he slowly catches his bottom lip between his teeth with a deliberate jerk of his brows, as he moves back up so he’s straddling Dean’s lap again, pressing their cocks against one another. Jensen's head swims at the sensation.

Dean immediately wraps his hand around the both of them, steadily working their dicks together. Jensen leans forwards, making incoherent but appreciative noises, resting his forehead against Dean’s. Dean’s eyes are pointing down, staring at the friction he’s creating, watching greedily as he tugs Jensen along with himself. Jensen drags his lower lip, still full from when he bit it earlier, across Dean’s forehead. Dean’s inhale is sharp and sudden. 

Jensen’s hips begin to thrust faster, craving more friction, grinding in rhythm with the movements of Dean's hand. Dean tilts his head up to look at Jensen, eyes dark, and Jensen seizes Dean's mouth in his, rough and filthy, it’s lips and tongues and a little teeth, and all he can think about is Dean’s body on his.

Jensen manages to pull himself out of the moment briefly, and remembering another one of his own sensitive spots, he twists his fingers through the short hair at the nape of Dean's neck, tugging it lightly. He’s hit another bullseye, it seems, because Dean shudders at the touch, and his entire body starts to move in time with Jensen’s, Dean's hips rocking against his, and oh this is going to destroy Jensen, but he wants it, he wants to be completely ravaged and devastated by Dean Winchester. Ruined by the feel of Dean’s body against his.

And Dean knows it.

All of a sudden Dean is flipping Jensen over onto his back, a well-practiced maneuver that would probably work better with someone a bit smaller. Any clumsiness on Dean’s part is immediately forgiven by Jensen, however, when Dean settles himself between Jensen's legs and starts rutting himself against Jensen's cock again, pushing against Jensen’s thighs like a force of nature, his hair a disheveled mess, eyes bright, the muscles in his neck cording as he pumps, faster, faster, faster, until all Jensen can do is let himself be taken along by the wave that is Dean Winchester. 

Dean's movements grow quicker and more indelicate, his breathing catching in his chest. Jensen knows right when Dean's about to come. Jensen almost tips over the edge himself as Dean finishes, his entire body ricocheting with it as he lets out one loud groan, followed by a few smaller, quieter noises as thick stripes of warmth flood out, pooling over Jensen’s chest and stomach.

Dean’s still moving, rocking slightly in the aftershock of his orgasm, eyes half-closed. He takes Jensen’s dick in his hand again, stroking him firmly for a few more moments. 

And now Jensen is crashing over the edge. Shaking and gasping as he cracks open. Spilling into Dean’s palm, his come mixing with Deans in the puddle on Jensen's stomach.

 _Shattered at the altar of Dean Winchester._ The tumblr tag rises unbidden in Jensen’s foggy brain as he shudders through the tremors racking his body. 

Jensen pulls Dean’s lips to his and moans lightly into his mouth, as his body begins to still, savoring the feeling of having Dean so close. His best imaginary friend made flesh. _Very nice, very fuckable flesh._

Dean rolls off of Jensen but stays laying on the bed beside him.

It’s quiet in the small, dark room now, the silence punctuated only by the sound of their heavy breathing. Neither of them is saying a word. Jensen feels their come drying on his chest and stomach, sticking to his skin, and wants very much to do something about this, feeling slightly uncomfortable now.

He turns to Dean, who’s staring up at the ceiling, and _shit. Dean regrets this, oh god, it’s all over his face._

“Uh.. “ Jensen mumbles out quietly, “I’m gonna go..” He gestures to his stomach, then motions to the bathroom. Dean nods. 

_Dammit. Where are his boxers?_ Jensen shimmies off the side of the bed, managing to snag a loose sheet to drape across his naked hips, and scurries into the small bathroom, quickly closing the door behind him. The euphoria he’d just experienced is all too quickly turning to dread. As enthusiastic as Dean was while they were tangled together just moments ago, he doesn’t seem to want anything to do with Jensen now. 

Jensen takes his time cleaning the dried spunk off his stomach, then finally returns to the other room to find Dean back in his own bed, one shoulder peeking out from under the blankets, covered by black cotton. _He got dressed_ , Jensen realizes with a pang of disappointment. He retrieves his own shirt and underwear from the crumpled pile on the floor, puts them on, and climbs into bed. Alone. 

Jensen tries not to feel _too_ rejected as he slowly drifts to sleep.


	3. The Angel and the Bicycle

When Jensen wakes in the morning, it’s to the sound of Dean angrily shouting down the phone at someone, Sam probably.

“What do you mean you ‘can’t figure out how he did it’? He got here somehow, just -!” Dean cuts off abruptly, seeming to listen for a moment, he’s slightly calmer when he responds. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Okay. Bye.” He tosses his phone down on the bed with a huff before casting a glare at Jensen.

Jensen’s eyes meet Dean’s.

“Oh.” Dean says, the look on his face telling Jensen that Dean hadn’t realized he was awake. Dean knuckles at the nape of his neck, right near the spot Jensen had caressed so softly night before. 

Jensen feels a blush start to rise in his cheeks. Dean doesn’t seem to notice. “So uh, Sam says he and Bobby can’t figure out how you got here, or how to send you back.”

It’s only now that Jensen begins to feel slightly worried. He hadn’t thought about getting home, only getting here. And even that he hadn’t actually put too much thought into. _What if I’m stuck here?_

_Fuck. Shooting is supposed to resume in like two days, too. The CW is going to kill him._

Dean must notice the panic setting into Jensen’s features, because he quickly jumps into damage-control mode. “Lucky for us,” Dean says in a lighter, more reassuring tone, “Unlike your crappy little TV show, we’ve still got Cas. I bet he can use some of his angel mojo to get you back to where you came from. And, he’s only a soul-phone call away.”

Jensen watches as Dean's posture relaxes a little, his head bowing just a bit, his eyes sliding shut, hands loosely working at his sides. This is Dean praying to Castiel. The look on Dean's face surprises Jensen - it’s so much more open and intimate than it was at any point last night.

“Hey Cas, got a bit of a _Single White Female_ situation down here, could use your help.” Dean’s light tone is in direct contradiction with his intense body language. _Dean’s entire being seems to vibrate with the intensity of the connection to the angel,_ Jensen adds the script notes in his mind. 

Dean opens his eyes and looks around expectantly.

Almost immediately, Jensen hears a light fluttering of wings, and nearly shoots up off the bed when he sees Misha - no, not Misha, _Cas -_ appear in the room. Materializing _very_ close to Dean.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas says in the same gravely voice Misha used to. _Used to._ There’s a sudden, small pang in Jensen’s chest at the past tense.

Jensen watches on, feeling invisible, as Dean and Cas stare at each other, just a little too intensely and for just a bit too long. _Eye fuck_ , he remembers from the script direction, _so they really do that huh?_

He lets it go on for a few more seconds before awkwardly clearing his throat. _Now I feel like Sam Winchester_ , he thinks to himself. He doesn’t like the feeling of being the third wheel.

 _Especially when it’s a wheel on a bicycle he just rode the night before. Although,_ Jensen thinks to himself, now that Cas is here, Jensen is reminded of how much fun tandem bikes can be. _No no no, focus._

Jensen suddenly remembers he still doesn’t have any pants on. He pulls the scratchy hotel blanket up higher on his hips, hoping the angel won’t notice.

Something about being this close a celestial being while in nothing but his skivvies doesn’t sit too well with Jensen. _Though hmmm, I bet Dean wouldn’t mind it too much._

Cas looks over at Jensen then, and Jensen shoos the errant thought away just in case Cas can see inside his head somehow, he’s not sure how angels work in this world. Cas tilts his head quizzically, “Who is this?” He asks, the question, while _about_ Jensen, is clearly directed only at Dean.

Jensen puts himself in the notes again. _Despite Jensen’s appearance being identical to Dean Winchester’s, it’s clear Cas immediately knows this is someone entirely different._

“Well,” Dean begins, “ _This_ is Jensen Ackles. _An actor_ , from that TV land you and your little friend Balthazar zapped me and Sam to last week, _remember_?” Deans hands fly around, gesticulating wildly in an attempt to emphasize just how unhappy he is about Jensen’s presence. Or maybe he’s still unhappy about being zapped into “TV land” in the first place.

Jensen catches himself peering at Dean’s face to determine which choice he is making, _honestly I think he’s mad at Cas, not just me being here_ -but then Jensen remembers - _this isn’t a show_. None of this is a choice for Dean. Whatever Dean’s actually feeling right now, he’s not acting. This is Dean’s real life, his real emotions. 

Feeling like an intruder, Jensen turns his attention back to the conversation, of which he is still the central topic.

“Well, what is he doing here?” Cas sounds like an exasperated parent asking their child why there are toys all over the living room floor.

“I don’t know!” Dean spits out, clearly frustrated by the fact that Cas seems to have more questions than answers. “He just turned up. Sam went over to Bobby’s to try and find a way to send him back, but they’ve got nothing, so I called you.”

“Dean I’m - “ Cas begins, but Dean cuts him off.

“Busy, angel war, yeah, I know. But I’m kinda at a loss here, man. I need some help. I don’t even know how he got here, I thought that his world was a mojo free zone.”

Cas is quiet for a moment, contemplating, as his eyes roam the walls, looking briefly over at the pile of sheets still pooled in one corner of the room, and _oh - that’s where Jensen’s jeans went_. Jensen squirms uncomfortably, wondering if Cas understands why the room is in the state that it is, and hoping he doesn’t.

“Well,” he says finally, “I suppose it’s possible that by us crossing over into that world, some of the cosmic energy from this world bled into that one, a kind of a magical spillover that altered that reality slightly, creating a seismic type of shift that allowed - “ Dean cuts off Cas’ rambling explanation.

“Okay Bill Nye, so it’s possible. Can you fix it?”

The angel, _the actual real life angel of the Lord Castiel_ , moves closer to Jensen, with a look on his face that makes Jensen feel like something sitting in a petri dish in a lab somewhere. 

“I can take him back,” again, Cas’ words are directed at Dean, “But I’ll need to gather a few things. I’ll be right back.” Another flutter of wings and Cas disappears, the suddenness of his exit causing Jensen to jolt slightly.

Dean looks at the empty space where Cas had just been standing with a slight hint of fondness in his expression. He glances at Jensen, noticing his surprise. “Yeah, uh -” the corners of Dean’s eyes crinkle with a small unbidden smile. “He’s not good at goodbyes.” Dean shrugs. “Anyway -”

Dean turns around, pouring coffee in a styrofoam cup, and offering it to Jensen without meeting his eyes. “Drink up Marlon Brando, it’s time to send you home.”

Jensen quickly yanks his pants from the floor and dresses in the bathroom, as Dean clears off the small table where they had dinner the night before. He tosses Jensen a spare travel toothbrush, and goes to get a few things out of the Impala, after mentioning that he remembers most of the spell Balthazar used to send him and Sam to Jensens world, and that Cas is probably using a similar one.

It only takes a few minutes for Cas to return, and Jensen is startled again when the angel suddenly appears with no warning other than the faint sound of wings fluttering. Dean is still outside.

_This is . . .a little awkward._

Cas regards Jensen with that same questioning gaze. _Dean’s body. But not the one Cas rebuilt, molecule by molecule._ Jensen inserts the explanatory notes in his head.

Cas is silent. 

“Uh, hiya.” Jensen says, trying to lessen the weirdness. _Hiya? What is he saying?!_

Cas squints at him, seeming to agree with his thoughts.

Thankfully, Dean bursts in a second later, clapping Cas on the shoulder affectionately, and they easily slip into their regular rapport. 

Jensen is feeling like more of an outsider minute by minute.

Jensen watches Dean and Cas prepare the spell, observing the way they move around each other with ease, communicating only with looks and small movements, and lots of unnecessary touching. He can see now why Dean got so upset when he found out the show was continuing on without Cas. The two of them do seem to share quite the... _profound bond._

_Maybe tumblr was right after all._

“Hey, Dean?” Suddenly, Jensen’s got an idea, a crazy one. But hey, this is Supernatural. Crazy ideas pan out here all the time. Jensen’s watched the show, hell, he’s lived the show. This might work. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Dean looks up and walks across the room to Jensen, glancing back over his shoulder at Cas more than once. Cas meets his eyes every single time, something passing between them. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“So uh...” Jensen starts out tentatively, unsure how Dean will respond, “I know you were... Upset, about Cas not being on the show anymore. I, um, see now how much the real Cas means to you - “ Jensen pauses there because Dean’s eyebrows are furrowed, and he thinks there’s a chance Dean might deck him.

Jensen takes a step back, just in case, before he goes on.

“I...well, I guess I don’t want TV Dean to lose that. The um, friendship,” Jensen adds quickly, “that he had with TV Cas. I mean, I know you don’t care about the show, you probably think it’s stupid. But...” Jensen knows he’s rambling now, and from the look on Dean’s face he knows he should probably stop talking, but he has to get it all out. “I was just wondering if maybe, if it’s not too much trouble, if… Cas could... Bring Misha back to life or...whatever. That way.. TV Dean doesn’t have to lose his... best friend, and also, MIsha’s a good guy, and I... Well, I kinda miss him...” Jensen trails off. 

Dean’s looking at him like he’s an idiot. But his expression is slowly softening. 

“Look, we can ask,” Dean tells Jensen, “But no promises okay? He’s an angel, not a vending machine of miracles, y’know?”

Dean heads back over to the table where Cas is still putting the finishing touches on the spell, “Hey,” Dean says to Cas, “Cary Grant over here’s got a question for you.”

Cas looks up at Dean with a small fond smile. “Of course, Dean.” He turns to Jensen. “I’ll resurrect your friend.”

Jensen stares at him, dumbfounded. Cas shrugs. “Neither of you are very adept at speaking quietly.” He looks at Dean again with a slight roll of his eyes. “And I _am_ a celestial being. I heard you.”

Dean tosses back a laugh, and claps Cas on the back, fingers lingering for just a second. “Thanks, buddy.” He looks over the setup on the table. “Looks like it’s ready.” He glances at Jensen. “Time to go.”

Jensen steps up to the table, looks over at Dean, and they connect eyes one last time. “It was uh… nice to meet you.” Dean tells Jensen, a little awkwardly, reaching out to shake his hand. When Jensen's palm comes into contact with Dean’s he doesn’t feel the same rush he did the night before. _Hmmm, interesting._

And suddenly Jensen has a flash of understanding about his fascination with and affection for Dean. Maybe it’s that he wants to _be_ Dean Winchester more than he wants to _fuck_ him. _Not that fucking him wasn’t nice_. 

Dean takes a step back from the table, nudging Jensen forwards so he’s standing next to Cas. Cas grips Jensen firmly by the shoulder as he tosses in the final spell ingredient. 

There’s bright purple light and a loud whooshing noise, and for a moment Jensen feels like he’s been caught up in a tornado. But then he feels the ground, firm against his feet again. 

Jensen and Cas are standing back in Jensen’s hotel room, so much nicer than the one they’d just been in with Dean.

Jensen turns to Cas and - uh oh. Cas is looking down at the table in front of them, the remains of the spell Jensen had used to go to Cas and Dean’s world still covering it. 

“You lied to Dean and Sam.” Cas says very matter of factly, although a small tinge of disapproval manages to bleed through in his tone.

“Yeah, I did.” Jensen answers reluctantly, “But in my defense, I didn’t think it would work. I was just kind of...playing around.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, the expression much harder when directed towards Jensen instead of Dean. “Well, do me a favor? Don’t ‘play around’ anymore.” He actually uses his fingers to do the quotations, and Jensen is reminded of Misha again.

“Cross my heart,” Jensen says, putting everything he has into the promise, and he means it too. He doesn’t want to end up stuck somewhere else with no way of getting back. “I’ll leave the magic games to you guys.” He clears his throat.

“So, uh, Misha.” 

“Right,” Cas says, apparently taking Jensen at his word not to mess with magic again, “Where is his body?”

The question takes Jensen by surprise, “His what?”

Castiel looks a little annoyed by Jensen's lack of comprehension, he asks again, more slowly. “Misha. His body. Where is it? I need it to resurrect him.”

Jensen hadn’t even thought of that, he’d completely forgotten that on the show, everytime someone is brought back to life there’s a body, his heart sinks. “Uh... He died over a week ago, he was buried already.” 

Cas purses his lips. “Is his grave nearby?”

Jensen’s mind suddenly conjures up frightful images of himself and Castiel digging up Misha's body in the dead of night. _I really don’t want to have to do that_ , he thinks. 

And worse yet, Jensen’s mind is bombarded by the scenes of Dean, TV Dean, crawling out of his own grave, all alone and confused, and the horror Jensen feels at the thought of Misha going through something like that is unparalleled. He looks at Cas with pleading eyes. “I - I don’t - is there any alternative to that, maybe?”

Cas sighs at Jensen’s slightly pathetic expression, and thinks for a moment. “Okay. There _is_ one other thing I can try. Do you have anything of his?” 

Jensen thinks for a moment, “Um...yeah actually. He gave me this bracelet.” Jensen carefully removes the woven leather band from his wrist and gives it to Cas.

Cas turns it over in his hands a few times before nodding his head, “Yes, okay, this will work.” 

The angel closes his palms around the token, his hands glowing slightly for a few seconds before light comes flooding out of them, filling the room and eventually gravitating to one spot. 

The light swirls around, growing bigger and brighter, until it’s the size of a man.

The faint sound of fluttering wings fills the room, signaling Cas’ departure, but Jensen barely notices it as he watches the light go out.

And then - there he is, wearing the same ugly blue cardigan he had on the last time Jensen saw him. Misha.

Jensen feels his face break out into a sunny smile. “Hey, buddy.”

“Hello, Jensen.”


End file.
